


Gimme Shelter

by MissBayliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Sick Dean Winchester, Teenagers, Teenchesters, teen!chesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 03:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBayliss/pseuds/MissBayliss
Summary: Papa Winchester is away and Dean's coming down with something.





	Gimme Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Every morning for five days in a row, Dean wakes up feeling *kinda* like he might be coming down with something. His throat is *kinda* sore; he’s *kinda* sneezy with like pre-cold sneezes; he feels *kinda* run-down and low-energy. But by each afternoon he’s feeling okay, so he’s not really sick. After almost a week of this, he’s getting pretty tired of it. Then he wakes up the next morning and… yeah, he definitely has a bad cold.

“Dean.”

Dean turns his head into the pillow.

“Dean, get up. You’re gonna be late for school.”

Dean pries his eyes open and groans, “Hey, Sammy. Sorry.”

Sam’s standing over his bed, backpack already slung over one shoulder.

“Do you want me to get the bus?”

Dean clears his throat, “Nah, give me a minute. I’ll walk with you.”

Sam takes his bag off his shoulder and slumps into a chair in the little kitchenette of the motel room they’ve been living in for the past 2 weeks.

Dean pulls himself out of bed, feeling the sting of the air against his skin and the ache in his bones.

“You eat breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, watching Dean.

Dean slips into the bathroom to change and throw some water on his face. His throat is a little dry and he feels like he might be coming down with something. He moves quickly though, knowing how mad Sam will be if he makes him late for his first class. 

They lock up the motel room and walk side by side to school. Dean clears his throat and sniffs again, already getting sick of feeling like this.

“You okay, man?” Sam looks up at him.

Dean coughs lightly twice into his fist, “Yeah, I’m cool, Sammy.”

“It’s _Sam,_ dude.”

Dean smirks and ruffles a hand through Sam’s hair. Sam laughs and bats him away. 

~

Dean feels better and better as the day goes on. By the time they get back to the motel Dean’s feeling good enough to make up for not cooking breakfast, and have bacon and eggs for dinner. Sam, of course, is thrilled by the idea. 

It’s 9 o’clock and the brothers have been watching TV and generally talking shit. 

“Alright, bedtime, small fry,” Dean says, giving his brother a playful shove. 

Sam scoffs and looks at Dean, “Small fry? One day I’m gonna be taller than _you_.”

“As if,” Dean laughs, “Go on.”

Sam smirks but follows Dean’s orders, brushing his teeth and climbing into his bed. 

Dean heads to the bar fridge and grabs a beer, vowing to make sure it’s restocked before his dad gets back. 

After another hour or so, Dean falls asleep. 

~

Dean wakes early because he didn’t close the curtain all the way the night before and the sun is shining right in his face. He groans softly and feels his chest clench, forcing a cough. God, maybe he is coming down with something. His face feels heavy, full, and he sniffles, looking over at Sam’s bed where the kid is still out like a light.

Dean forces himself to get up and make breakfast.

He’s scrambling eggs in a pan when the inside of his nose starts tickling.

“ _Huh’ **TSCHT**!_ ” he twists and sneezes into his shoulder.

“Bless you,” comes Sam’s sleepy voice from behind him.

Dean stays with his face pressing into his shoulder because he’s not done yet.

“ _Heh’ **KSCCHHT**! Hhh’ **CHEWw** uh!_”

Dean sniffs and takes the pan off the hotplate before it burns. 

“You okay?” Sam asks, settling at the table.

“Uhg,” Dean groans, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “Yeah.”

“I think you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. Shut up,” Dean snaps.

He dumps a plate of food in front of Sam and sits across from him, putting his head in his hands.

“You’re not eating?” Sam enquires.

“Not hungry,” Dean rasps, voice a little raw.

Sam stays quiet and eats his egg on toast, while Dean tries not to fall asleep and face plant the table.

~

Once Dean gets to school and starts the day he feels better again. He sneezes only once during roll call and takes a nap during history, by the afternoon he’s feeling normal.

Sam doesn’t pester him when they meet out the front of the school to walk home together because Dean’s fine, talking and teasing and generally being his normal jackassy self. 

And Dean starts to think that maybe he could have been getting sick, but managed to fight it off without injury.

~

The next 3 mornings are the same. Dean wakes feeling run-down, lethargic, congested and sore. His throat hurts, his nose tickles, and a few morning sneezes are becoming the norm. By the evening off the fifth day he feels fine again, as he has been, although this night he’s a little more tired than usual.

“Dean.”

Dean opens his eyes.

“Dude, it’s like 7 and you’re asleep.”

Dean looks at the clock, “Hm,” he stretches, “Felt later.”

“Maybe you should… go to bed or something,” Sam shrugs and goes back to doing his homework. 

Dean straightens and drags a hand down his face. He is unbelievably tired right now. 

“Dean,” Sam says again.

“What, dude?” Dean asks, getting a bit frustrated.

Sam looks at him, “Nothing.”

“You want some help with that?” Dean asks, even though his brother is already on senior math and probably doesn’t need Dean’s coaching anymore.

“No, I’m okay. But you should get some sleep if you’re tired.”

Dean yawns, “Maybe you’re right,” he stretches out on his bed and let’s his eyes close once again. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” Sam says, a smile in his voice, “Night, Dean.”

~

Dean wakes from a nightmare. A nightmare where he was trapped, forced under water, his head held down and he couldn’t breathe. He gasps and has to turn on his side he’s coughing so hard. The sun is up. Sam is up. It’s morning. And this morning, _this_ morning, is the absolute worst so far.

He soon realizes why he was dreaming about not being able to breathe. His nose is completely blocked, his throat feels swollen shut, his whole body is aching, and he’s covered in sweat.

“Morning, Dean,” Sam comes over to him with a glass of orange juice.

Dean pushes up on one elbow and focuses on Sam, “Shouldn’t you be ready for school?” his voice is hoarse and talking makes him cough.

“It’s Saturday,” Sam says, crinkling his brow.

He holds the drink out to his brother and Dean takes it with a trembling hand. 

“You okay?” Sam sits down on the bed opposite Dean, staring at him. 

Dean takes a sip and swallows carefully, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Dude, you’ve been tossing all morning and you look like shit… you sound like shit too.”

Sitting semi-upright forces things to move inside Dean’s sinuses and suddenly his nose is runny and snuffly, and incredibly tickly. 

“ _Huh’ **KKSCSHT**! Heh’ **TTSCHHT**!” _

“Bless you,” Sam says, and he sounds worried. He comes forward and takes the glass of juice from Dean, placing it on the nightstand.

Dean flops back on the pillow, unable to hold himself up anymore. He wipes the sweat off his brow and grimaces.

“I need to take a shower,” he sniffs and swallows, cringing at the pain in his throat.

“Isn’t dad supposed to call today?”

“Crap,” Dean curses, forcing himself upright.

He wavers and has to grab a hold of the nightstand, nearly toppling the juice, to steady himself, but he gets his feet planted on the floor. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks, timidly.

Dean closes his eyes and nods, “Yeah, I’m okay, Sammy. Just got a bug, that’s all.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

Dean shakes his head, “It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to talk to dad?”

“No,” Dean snaps.

Sam looks down at his feet and Dean feels mildly guilty for making his brother feel bad, but he’s actually too sick to care.

“ _Huh’ **TKSCHTUt**!_ ”

“Bless you.”

Dean’s coughing into his fist, face turning red when the motel phone rings twice, then hangs up. Dean looks up at his brother for a second and they lock eyes. The phone starts ringing again.

Dean swallows another cough and palms his forehead, feeling woozy. He nods to Sam.

_Go ahead._

Sam picks up the phone.

“Hello.”

Dean reaches for the orange juice Sam left on the nightstand and takes another sip, grimacing at the fire it ignites going down his throat.

“Yes, sir… Yeah, Dean’s here,” Sam listens to a response on the other end and looks wide-eyed at Dean. He’s pretty well sure his dad wants to speak to him.

“Uh,” Sam stammers, “He’s still in the shower. Do you want to wait?”

Dean smiles and little and mouths ‘thank you’. If his dad were to hear his voice right now he would know immediately how sick Dean was.

“Okay. I’ll tell him… When will you be home?”

It’s not a question Dean usually asks. If John doesn’t tell him he’s going to be home soon then he usually expects the hunt is taking a little longer than anticipated. It bothers Dean, but he doesn’t show it, and he understands. He does.

“Oh…” Sam’s reaction tells Dean enough. 

Dean can’t listen to the conversation anymore though, because he can feel his nose tickling and has to make a quick escape to the bathroom so his father doesn’t hear. 

He shuts the door and slumps back against the wall, tearing off a length of toilet paper and bringing it to his nose.

“ _Heh’K **KSCCHT**! Huh’ **CHXXT** uh! Hep’ **PSCTHH**!_ ” Dean sags, breathing heavily, vision swimming, “ _Het’chewchxx!”_

His last sneeze is weak, breathless. 

“Dean?”

Sam’s knocking on the door. 

Dean opens the door but remains leaning against the wall, feeling hot and sick, and dizzy. 

Sam looks up at him with concerned eyes, a look that weighs too much for how young he is. 

He just wraps his arm around Dean’s waist and softly says, “Come lie down.”

Dean’s arm settles on Sam’s shoulders and he wavers where he stands. He knows he’s really sick. At least it’s the weekend and he won’t have to push through the two worst days of this at school. 

“ _Huh’ **TSCHTU** t!_” Dean curls away from Sam, sneezing into his elbow. He almost loses his footing and Sam helps him get back to the bed.

“I should… take a shower.”

“Dean,” Sam says in exasperation, “You should just lie down until you feel better.” 

Dean coughs into his fist. His voice is husky and raw when he says, “This sucks, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam says and pushes on Dean’s shoulder until he lies back. 

Dean snuffles and wipes his nose on the bedspread, “Just a few hours, okay? Then I’ll,” he pauses, “get up and make you lunch.”

Sam huffs, “Yeah, sure,” he says sarcastically, “Go to sleep.”

Dean cracks one eye open and glares at his little brother, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam just laughs. 

  
_End_


End file.
